Love will show the way
by Hagne
Summary: Men. Aliens. In the end all we get to ask ourselves that question. Even you. Even the leader of the Autobots. So, what will your answer be? What are you willing to do for love? OptimusxOc. Warnings inside.
1. 1 - Curious, little and smart

**Disclaimer: Transformers and all its component do not belong to me. Instead the OC is mine.**

**As I mentioned previously in the summary there will be some scenes of violence and some other stuff that need the rating, like delicate thematic, if you find something too tough or excessive, please let me know.**

**I am open to advice!**

**About my Oc I have to say that my character will develop a bond with many of the Autobot, therefore at the beginning it might seem that her interest is directed to someone else, but this remains an OPtimusxOc story, however all the Autobot will have their own role.**

**Thank you guys for the attention! I hope you enjoy the story!**

It was believed that melancholy was the peculiarity of the most sensitive souls, the deep sadness of those who look at the world and accepts its cruelty, the hardness of something that would always be bigger than themselves, _than her_.

It had always been that way.

And it mattered little that she was so small that she can be locked in a closet, or that those eyes so full of melancholy and sadness belonged to a ten years old little girl, because the shadow that followed her had always been too cumbersome to be ignored or mistaken for her own.

Lucile was small, not stupid.

Her minds, insofar as unripe given the age, was sharp and imaginative.

It could be compared to that of an artist who sees what no else can see, who hear what can be perceived only with the heart, instead of hearing, and like those imaginative and abstract minds she was more sensitive to the outside world than others, more fragile and ready to accepts it as it is, even people and their actions.

In them Lucile could find more shades than in other things, a range of colors to which she was able to give a name and a form, and how much she loved to observe those shades dye their eyes and face Lucile had learned to keep a distance from them, because their emotions could crush her.

It was human nature to attack the weakest, to pulping his mind, but her grandma Lucrecia had always made sure that nothing could cause her damage.

Because Lucile was a premature child.

Even before her birth it had been clear that the complications resulting from an obvious cardiac deficiency would have compromised her health and that the chance to dying in childbirth were very high.

The doctors had given twenty percents chance of surviving, but even in that case her physical problems would have prevented her and her family to live a normal life.

Yet, if her mother had been willing to give her up her grandma Lucrecia had refused to support her own daughter's selfishness.

Her grandmother had told her that the birth was incredibly painful and hard, but when she was born her mother Lucinda had entrusted her in the care of her grandma after recovering the money Lucrecia had promised to give to her daughter in exchange to continue the pregnancy.

And there she was, bends on the floor to draw the orange sky that Lucile could see every day through the glass door of her room.

She was using acrylic, the wooden planks as her canvas and a patch of orange to soil her check whenever Lucile remove with an arm some black locks from her eyes.

She stretched the color propped on her elbows, a sea of yellow and red that she faded with the fingertips plunged into the water to give movement to the sketch.

The room was cluttered with shelves full of books and every flat surface was occupied by jars of colors, but the smell of paint was muffled by the scent of the wet grass on which her grandmother allowed her to play only for a few hours, and only in her presence.

That day, however, Lucrecia had to leave for work, and Lucile had to postpone her going out until next week, when she would be back.

Yet she did not complain.

Lucile was used to being alone at home, and her grandma had made sure she had everything she would need in the house and particularly in her room.

Each wall had a different color, and as the ceiling and the floor even those ones could become her sketchbook.

Forests, landscapes, Lucile drew what her mind wanted to see, everything that in her conditions she could only read in books, and that day she wanted to walk on the sky and bring in her room the forest that encircled the back of the house.

Tallahassee was a pretty little city, maybe a little too chatty, but neither she nor Lucrecia had never cared much about what people said, although of things to talk about there would be a lot.

After all hers was a non-traditional family, and although people might find objectionable the absence of a male figure or her lack of sociability with the children of her age Lucile was fine as she was.

Plus, her peers could be cruel as well as their mother could be extremely dramatic and unkind.

They called her grandmother the wicked witch, but in her, rather than malice there was sadness.

So much sadness.

Lucrecia Dumas, her grandma, had not had an easy life.

She had begun to work in the fields after leaving the Spanish community in search of fortune.

It was not easy for a woman to get her own space in a male-dominated society, but with work and patience her grandmother had brought the first plot of land that would have been the basis on which to build her own trade of fruit and vegetables.

She had won everything.

A nice house, a comfortable life, everything a person could wish for, but not what she really wanted.

Her mother had never been an example of morality, but over time she had become a selfish and greedy woman from whom her grandma had looked away with dismay and shame.

A gray person she was, an unnatural mother to whom she felt nothing but bitterness. And it was hard to believe that a child so small like her could feel so much, yet so it was, and Lucile saw nothing wrong in her way of being.

So, while the world outside was whispering behind her shoulders she covered the black of their word with the vibrant color of her soul.

She was just giving the last pass of orange when something strange happened.

When the water wet her knees Lucile was quick to get back on her feet with the jar of yellow that she had had time to grab close to her chest, eyes on the sky that had been ripped by the thunder that had shaken the glasses and did overthrow the tub of water.

The picture was now ruined, but Lucile continued to look outside the window in search of black clouds.

Minutes passed in silence, her gaze that slowly slid lower and lower to fill her eyes of the green of the forest that for a moment she had seen shaking.

She waited to hear another thunder or the sound of rain, approaching meanwhile step by step the glass-door of her room, unsure of what to do.

Go out or call for help?

The right thing to do would have been shut herself in and wait the return of her grandma, but Lucile was a very curious little child, and thought she blindly obey the rules for once she decided to follow her heart rather than her head.

The hiss of the door seemed to warn her about the dangers of her actions while the cold wind made her shiver, her hands anchored to the handle in what could be seen as timid indecision.

_What to do_?

Lucile could only repeat the same question over and over again.

The first step was easy to make, and even the second required a little effort, but when her fingers were on the verge of letting go Lucile hesitated a moment longer before the rustle of bushes kindle the curiosity in her eyes.

And while she forwarded in the forest as one of the heroine of her books, just a few feet from her what Lucile had mistaken for a lightning reactivated himself with a restless and dangerous hiss.

**Who could it be? **

**A she or a he?**

**Friend or foe?**

**Go-ahead with the hypothesis!**


	2. 2 - Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty

_Awful._

No other adjective could describe better the situation in which he was.

Wounded. Lost. And dirty, so _damn_ dirty to make him cringe, and all for that bastard of Starscream.

The curses that Sunstreaker chewed between clenched teeth would make blush even that longshoreman of Ironhide, not that he was famous among the Autobots to be a social animal, quite the opposite.

If there was one thing for which he was known and despised by many of his fellow was his lack of morality.

More than once it had been pointed out as his cold personality and his cynical view of the world made him more like a Decepticons than an Autobot, an opinion widespread that he had never wanted to soften.

He was that way.

Ruthless. Narcissist. And selfish.

_He was Sunstreaker_, and he could not see anything wrong with that.

Take it or leave.

That was his motto, and although many had preferred to get rid of him even before try to look for something different, less hard to swallow, to him it was enough that his brother would accept him as he was.

_Only him_.

Sunstreaker didn't need anything else.

Them against the world. It had always been that way.

Sideswipe was everything he needed.

In fact it was the thought of finding his twin rather than the call of their leader to convince him to reach Earth, the fact of how he got there was however what annoyed him most.

He certainly had not expected a warm welcome from a world in which he had immediately notice far too much water, and he _hated_ water, but he was not even prepared for what awaited him once entered the Earth's atmosphere.

Even before the questionable taste in the choice of his own armor Sunstreaker had recognized _the voice_.

That scratchy and annoying voice with which Starscream had clashed against his armor after intercepting him in the air.

The idiot had caught him by surprise, and not because his sensor were obsolete, but because that intergalactic scum had attacked him from behind.

That coward had not given him the time to fight back.

Starscream had struck him without giving him respite, taking advantage of the fact that they were in the air, not Sunstreaker's element.

He wasn't a bloody seeker, and unlike the Decepticons he could not rebel against the force of gravity.

All that he could do was parry the blows and, in the meantime, continue to fall without being able in any way to decide the directions in which crashing miserably.

Of course if he had been able to choose where to smash his shiny aft it would have been in the snow, soft and smooth snow able to smoothing his landing and most importantly, unable to scratch his bodywork.

_Obviously_ he had not been so lucky.

Instead of a soft carpet Sunstreaker had made the acquaintance with a blanket of leaves and twigs that rather than dampen the impact had worsened his condition and chipped the painting.

_Awful._

It was the Earth.

And Starscream.

And his life, at the moment.

Nothing had gone the right way since he had decided to answer the call, well with the exception of the only successful hit that allowed him to break free from his attacker and that would have made Starscream whimper for quite a while.

It was not all garbage, okay, but his condition didn't change.

He was seriously wounded, with ten percent of motor autonomy and no chance to defend himself.

Put simply. _He was screwed_.

A pang of pain made him grumble when Sunstreaker tried to roll on the side, a stupid idea having regard of his squeaky joints, but the fact of being at the mercy of any enemy made him uneasy.

He hated feeling vulnerable.

Anyone could attack him before he could lift a finger to defend himself, even the weakest of the Decepticon would have had the better of him.

_Embarrassing_.

Throughout his life Sunstreaker had never felt so useless, so powerless, and he didn't like it.

Feeling weak.

How did the fleshling bear the idea of not being able to protect themselves or their families from them?

Yes, he had wasted some of his precious time to learn as much as possible about Earth and its inhabitants.

The most important thing to know was that fleshling were small. _Terribly small_.

Sunstreaker could have walked on them without even noticing, but even if he did he would have not cared.

The thing actually could be useful.

It would have been enough to see him to make them run away, at least he would not have to move.

Indeed, a good thing.

But now he had to rest a bit.

Perhaps more than a bit, but he needed to rest anyway, and so he would have done if his sensors, thought damaged, had not picked up a suspicious movement on his right.

The Autobot was unable to move, even the frenetic fret of his optics was tiring and painful, however he could not help but fidget.

He felt trapped.

And thought was difficult to admit it, Sunstreaker was scared.

Ridiculous for one of his caliber, and yet he feared for his life.

Mind you, he was not afraid to die, or being tortured. No.

His only fear was to leave his brother alone against the world.

Something inconceivable for him, the thought was enough to unnerve him, because Sideswipe would not last an astrosecond without him.

His brother _needed_ him, and Sunstreaker could not afford to die, however at the moment he was not able to decide whether to live or die, all he could do was look from the corner of his eyes the advance of the blurry figure.

Friend or Foe?

No one could say.

Sunstreaker just hoped to survive, or at least to have a quick and painless death.

However, the only thing he had was the time to be swallowed up in a pair of black and curious eyes before his vision system was deactivated.

* * *

Someone was watching him.

That was the first logical thought that Sunstreaker's detection system picked up once the little rest had reloaded, although slightly, his processor.

He could not say how much cycle had elapsed from the sudden and forced self-deactivation, the only thing he was sure of was that in the meantime no damage had been done to him.

_Odd._

And suspicious. _Highly_ suspicious.

Anyone would have taken advantage of him, even a human in his infinite uselessness as living being would not have missed the opportunity to dissemble him to play the mad scientist with his limbs, yet nothing had happened to him.

_Why_?

Not that being still in one piece bothered him, but _why_?

Why not kill him?

_Why_ spare him?

Had he stumbled upon some cruel and crazy creature who preferred to have his prey awake and conscious before torturing them?

Had he been so unlucky?

Maybe. No. Yes?

Not knowing was killing him.

But the worst thing was that which had been the truth he could not do anything but sit back and watch.

Sunstreaker growled, a_loud_, and It was then that his future murderer knew that he had awakened.

_Slaggin!_

An excited buzz to his right informed him about the position of the creature that had his life in his hand, something particularly dangerous judging the tranquility with which he approached him.

He, she, or whatever it was, _that thing_ was not afraid.

_Bad sign_.

Everyone would be afraid of him, even in his condition.

After all he was a giant robot,for _Primus's sake_!

His size was enough to make the knees shake, but not those of the creature, it seemed.

Brave or stupid, Sunstreaker didn't know how to describe his attempt to reach him, but when he felt a touch just below the shoulder the optics that he had pointed angrily at the sky slid sideways, and down and _down_ until his keeper finally took a shape and a _race. _Probably.

- _What_ the _Pit_ are _you_?

Lucile winced visibly when she heard him talking, or hiss, or both.

She was not sure if that was his normal way of speaking, but one thing was certain.

A male.

That creature was unquestionably a male, or at least it was her opinion, not that she could _ask _him.

It would have been rude and embarrassing, and even if she could not know if _he _had her same perception of what could be considered rude or not she decide not to ask her questions but to answer his.

- I'm Lucile.

_And what the slagg was a Lucile?_

Obviously Sunstreaker didn't repeat that question aloud, instead he took a little time to analyze that bizarre being and give an answer to his early questions.

_What was that thing?_

Obvious. A fleshling. Nothing else could have been so _small _and, well, fleshy.

Yet she was_ too_ small, even for one of her race.

Sure, he knew that some of that useless being could be particularly tiny, after all they too had little ones, but he was missing something.

A sparkling.

That's what she was.

A sparkling, or by using fleshling terms, a _child_.

The noisy grunt with which Sunstreaker expressed his revulsion towards the current situation brought Lucile to fidget and stretch toward him, her hands anchored to the edges of the stair on which she was raised.

A movement that he did not fail to notice and for which the Autobot found himself looking at her with distrust.

- What?

- Does it hurts?

Her question left him dazed, but more than the question itself, it was the concern in her voice to irritate him.

She was worried for him?

_Really?_

- I don't need your pity, fleshling – he barked, gaze hardened by rage.

- It's not pity. You are injured, mine is a natural question – she contradicted him with great irritation of Sunstreaker – and my name is not fleshling. It's Lucile.

- I don't care about you denomination fleshy! You-

- Yours way of speaking is funny.

Any possible curse he was going to throw her was annihilated by that _dowdy _word.

Funny_?_

Was she mocking him_?_

He was beautiful. Charming. Powerful.

In a nutshell he was the best. He was not, what again? Funny?

Who? _Him_?

_That little-_

_- _Who do you think you are calling _funny, _fleshling _? _There is nothing funny here, and if only I could move I'd give you proof. I'm a Cybertronian, you should fear me!

- So yours name is Cybertronian? Well, It's a little tricky but I can handle it, yes. I can. You know, I think that-

_For Primus's sake!_

-_ You_ glitch – he began to hiss to be immediately and annoyingly interrupted by her. _Again._

- I told you before, I'm Lucile. Is it a difficult name? I don't think so, because, no offense, but yours is much more difficult than mine. I -

Ignore her or send her to the Pit?

The last. Maybe. Or Both.

Sunstreaker did not know what do thing anymore, but he had finally chosen how to label her.

Foe.

One of the worst. Unquestionably.

How was even possible for such a tiny being to be so noisy?

Shouldn't sparkling have much less air to talk?

Or that was a specialty of the fleshling ?

Maybe that was the way they killed their enemy. Boring them to death.

Clever. He had to acknowledge it.

However, lost as he was in his thoughts Sunstreaker had not noticed that she had stopped talking for a while.

Lucile had in fact began to count the wounds to get an idea of how many sheets would serve to patch the deep cracks and prevent the leaves to from getting stuck in the gears.

She had not yet understood _what _or from _where _Cybertronian exactly come from, but it was clear with what his body was made.

Metal.

Okay, maybe a metal non _exactly _ equal to their but it was a point from which to start.

After all Cybertronian had landed in_ her_ garden, and consequently he had become _her _responsibility.

Sure, she could and should have called someone, the police would be the best choice, but something told her that she would exposed Cybertronian to far greater dangers.

He was an alien, after all, and Lucile had read too many books on the subject to not know what they would have done to him.

Thus she would have kept him hidden and protected.

Yes. It was the right choice to do.

- Why are you standing on a stairway?

Lucile looked up to meet the strange but pretty eyes of Cybertronian, finding him with his face bent to the side and a curios but not less wary light in his blue gaze.

- Why should I not stand on a stairway ?

The way in which he stretched his lips explained to her that he had not expect that answer, and picking up the irritation on his face Lucile tried to rephrase the question in her head, but he anticipated her.

- You fleshling are used to stand on a stairway. In the middle of nowhere. _Why_?

_Oh_. Right.

- It's not a habit of mine. I did it for you. Anyway, what's a fleshling? It's something to eat? Are hungry? Because I can-

- What the _slag_ I have to do now with that ? Are you glitching?

The eccentricity of that sparkling was beginning to be too much for his processor, and creepy, _really_ creepy.

What the Pit was wrong with her anyway?

She kept babbling nonsense from only Primus alone could know how much cycle, and now that little psycho was giving_ him_ the blame for _her_ own silliness?

Sunstreaker was going to glitch.

- I don't think I understand _everything _you said but yes, I did it for you. I climbed on a stair when I realized you could not move. So when you'd woken you could look into my eyes when we talked. I didn't meant to make you uncomfortable, because I believe that not being able to look at the person with whom you speak make you feel _really_ uncomfortable. And since you can't move and I'm too short I decided to climb on a ladder in order to facilitate the thing.

- How long have you been over there? – was the only thing he managed to say.

Lucile stopped to think about it for a moment, and looking at the now orange sky she gave him the answer.

Nine hours.

That little noisy crazy sparkling had been sitting on a ladder for nine hours.

For him.

- _Why_?

His voice had gone out harder than he had intended, even a little too scratchy for his taste, but stem the flow of confusion, frustration and anger was impossible at the moment.

But she did not seem to grasp his agitation, or if she did Lucile chose not to say anything.

- Because wake up and find no one near us is a sad thing. It makes you feel alone, and being alone it's not nice. It's unpleasant. Don't you think so Cybertronian?

Yeah.

It was indeed unpleasant to feel alone, but Sunstreaker was never _really_ alone, even during the war.

He had Sideswipe. He had his twin brother.

He would never be truly alone, but she didn't know it, and Lucile had acted accordingly by following her own experience.

And although he was not familiar with them, Sunstreaker _knew_ that a sparkling was not supposed to know those things.

It was not _right _for someone of her age to _know, _yet something in her eyes tell him that _she did_.

How?

Unfortunately that day Sunstreaker could not get an answer from her, but something that he had not expecting to receive by someone who was not his brother.

A promise.

And for those who like him did not believe in it, that '_I'll take care of you_ with which Lucile dismissed herself, waving her little hands and smiling at him was filed by his processor as one of the many bug he decided to ignore.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. 3 - His knight in shining armor

**Thank you for using a little of your time to read me, and I would be really happy if you made me know what you think about the story.**

**I would be really**_**, really**_** glad. Just to know if it is too boring or if I should improve anything.**

**I'd like to know your opinion. Even small. I would appreciate it. **

**So here the third chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

If it were possible for a human to move an object by just staring intently at it then the needle of her alarm would have scored seven in the morning for quite a while, unluckily there were still five minutes to divide her from the beginning of a new and thrilling day.

Usually Lucile would spend a few more minutes under the warmth of the blanket, but she had too much to do for lounging.

The night before she had made sure to prepare all the necessary for the following morning so as to be immediately ready, and although she had difficulty falling asleep Lucile had tried to rest for not neglect her health, just like Lucrecia had told her before leaving.

It was indeed the thought of her grandmother to convince her to wait a little longer. Just a little more.

_Rest was just as important as eating_ was one of her favorite phrases, Lucrecia's way to remind her how important it was to follow the rules and, at the same time, hold off her own anxiety.

It was not easy to take care of a sick child.

Look after her had always required a lot of energy and time from her grandma, and insofar as Lucile tried to be independent to lighten Lucrecia of the burden of her condition the only way to reassure her grandmother had always been to follow the rules, something she had always done.

At least until yesterday.

So she waited, and waited and waited until finally the ring of the alarm give her the permission to start the day.

The bathroom was the first stop of her race against time.

Be a ten years old girl greatly simplified her daily routine.

A quick brushed at her black hair. A bit-and-run with the wash basin. One last look at the mirror and off to the second stop.

Dressing up was simply enough.

Usually she dressed according to her mood. And so she did that day.

The bright yellow of her dress was the perfect compromise between the excitement that lit her dark eyes and the desire to make Cybertronian feels at ease.

Could a color put at ease a person? Yes. It can. Or at least Lucile had read something about it in a book on color therapy, so she knew that it could make him happy to see something similar to him, or at least she hoped so.

Cybertron was indeed a strange creature, and not just because, well, _he was an alien robot_, it was his character to make him special in her eyes.

When she saw him her first instinct had been to run away, but when her eyes had pooped on the huge gashes the fear gave away to concern.

Stupid of her to worry about someone who could crush her with a finger, but she had only seen an injured person.

Not a threat.

Not a monster.

Only a wounded and lost creature who needed help. _Her_ help.

And no one had ever needed it, so that he wanted it or not she would give it to him anyway. And maybe, maybe, over time, she could also help him to return to his home.

It would have been nice, but right now the first thing to do was be accepted by him.

How, she did not know, but she would have started with trying to establish a bond with Cybertronian.

It was a nice day, and it would continue to be so if only the wheels of the cart had not been stuck in the mechanism of the sliding door.

And she needed the cart. Absolutely.

That was the only way to carry what would help fix Cybertronian's wound to the forest.

The alternative would have been to make more trips, but Lucile, who did not even have the strength to lift the wheels to slide the cart forward could never do it.

Yet, as often happened to her, where her physical strength did not reach her imagination could.

She was just make up her mind on what to use as a lever when she heard it.

_A cry of pain._

Short and sharp.

A sound toward which Lucile immediately run, forgetting everything.

The cart.

Her trouble.

And the awareness of having very little with which defend herself or Cybertronian, anyone who was found to be the enemy.

* * *

Sunstreaker had had problems to recharge, but he was stating the obvious.

It was _natural_. And depressing, not less.

How could it be otherwise?

After all he had lost the _slagging _sensibility in his pede and servo after he crushed his beautiful person on a _slagging_ land,_ after_ being defeated by a _slaggin _Decepticons.

How? _How_ he could recharge after all that?

Yet it was not only just the fact of being one step away from falling into stasis lock to prevent him from recharge, but a more disturbing memory, an irritating awareness.

And for what it cost him to admit it, he could not deny it or _her._

_A fleshling_.

The word was enough to disgust him, and if anyone had ever told him that one day, one of those useless creature would have saved his shiny aft he would hit he or she hard enough to assure him a ticket for the Pit, or for a visit to Ratchet that was more or less the same thing.

However, it was true.

She had saved him.

And Sunstreaker could continue to repeat to himself it was not anything special, that all would have done the same, but those were just excuse, because no one, _no one _would done it.

It was exactly that to disturb him.

Anyone would have taken advantage of him, even the most sympathetic of the human would have ended up selling him in exchange of something.

After all what was he to them?

He was not one of them or one of those protected species that everyone _was forced_ to safeguard.

He was a nobody.

Perhaps even a danger.

How could not they think that?

It was enough the diversity among their race, his height and equipment to make him unquestionably a threat.

Plus no one could feel tenderness toward him, toward a giant and terrifying armed robot.

Yet that _Lucile _had proved to be worried for him.

At first Sustreaker had thought that hers was a way to make him believe to be safe so as not to unleash his wrath until the arrival of the armed force, one of the many concern that had kept him awake, but it turned out to be what it always was.

A loss of time.

That's what it was.

Because when the morning had come none of what he had feared had come true.

No ambush.

No attempt to dissemble him in the night.

Just the fatigue and the irritation derived from the rest almost non-existent.

One thing was therefore unmistakable.

Lucile was his savior and currently his caretaker.

And that Primus would forgive him for what he was about to think, but know that he can have at least one ally, no matter how disturbingly tiny and weird his was, reassured him.

After accepting the chilling truth recharge had therefore become a possible option as well as a necessity.

He had fallen asleep in a astrosecond, overcome by fatigue and the certainty that by now it could not get any worse.

How naive he had been.

_Obviously _it could be worse than that.

It all began with a pinch.

_Yes._ A pinch.

A short but painful pinch.

How Sunstreaker had even been able to feel it was a mystery.

He was made of solid cybertronian metal for Primum's sake, not of that junk that human believe unbreakable.

He could not feel _pinchs._ It was not possible.

Yet he had feel it. And it had hurt. A lot.

What left him speechless was therefore the increase of those _pinches._

One. Two. At the third Sunstreaker decided to open his optics, and what he found was not exactly what he had expected to find, especially not _on_ him.

- What the_ slag_ are you?!

A strangled cry was all that the odd being gave him before waving his huge wings and go back to tap his chest with his long and sharp nose, a move that typically would not have caused him any damage if only the little glitch had not touched one of the bare wires leaked from one of the many gashes.

Sunstreaker let out a scream of pain when he felt his nose sink lower, too close to the protective film that surrounded his spark.

_Too damn close._

What a shameful death, die at the hands of an animal.

If he were not suffering so much Sunstreaker would have even laughed for the irony.

He, so big and strong killed by a chicken.

_Hilariuos._

Sideswipe would come down to the Pit only to taunt him, he already imagined his brother yelling at him, but the voice that echoed in his audio receptors was not that of his twin brother, and yet it still managed to reassure him. Surprisingly.

- _Away from him!_

The annoyed cry with which the slaggin chicken had suddenly pulled back from him led Sunstreaker to open his optics just in time to see a stone hit the animal in the head.

And another one, and another, until, in attempt to dodge the blow the animal was forced to take shelter behind the Autobot's knees.

Only then Sunstreaker allowed himself to look for her with optics wide with surprise and relief, sure to be saved from the danger, that perhaps thing could have been better, a hope that he saw vanish as soon as he remembered _who _really was his rescuer.

- _Why_? Why you had to be_ so. slaggin_._tiny_?

Lucille raised on him a frightened look, arms full of stones that one of her little hands was about to hurl towards the white heron, and that gaze was enough to silence him.

Because see that look on her bothered him.

A contradiction since shortly before the thought of terrorizing the fleshlings made him smile with malice, but she, she complicated things.

Maybe it was the fact that, after all, she was just a sparkling.

A noisy, blabber and tiny, _oh Primus_, so tiny little sparkling.

Or simply because she was different. And odd. And stupidly kind to give shelter to an alien.

Whatever the motivation, he did not like it. See her scared.

He was just about to tell her to leave, optics already turned to the sky, when an unexpected weight on his right servo forced him to lower his gaze.

- What do you think you're doing fleshling?

She ignored him and his surprised and annoyed tone, too busy to maintain the balance in reaching his shoulder and try to climb on him.

Not that it was easy with all those stones that she still clutched to her chest to unbalance her, but if there was one thing in which she was good, was that Lucile didn't give up easily.

She could feel his eyes on her. Cybertronian's cold-hearted eyes.

And although it was almost palpable his opposition to the contact Lucile continued to climb until she found herself rolling on his chest. Finally.

For a while she was belly up to catch her breath, stones to compress her chest and the rapid breathing to remember her limit, which included climb giant robot alien.

Her grandma, who barely allowed her to rise her own plate, would have gone crazy if she had know.

- I bet that ignoring the _obvious _danger and climb on aliens that are threatened by evil and fat chicken is not one of your habit_._ But let me try to guess. You did it for me_, right_?

When he saw her spin on herself just to direct him a guilty and surprised look Sunstreaker almost smiled.

_Almost._

- It's correct – she chirped with his deep discouragement.

- And would you like to explain to me why, fleshling?

The sudden seriousness of her eyes troubled him while that annoying feeling of missing something returned to confuse his processor.

- To protect you.

Laugh at her and at those _ridiculous, ridiculous _words would have been a must.

And yes. _Yes_. He had said ridiculous.

Because as far as he could appreciate and bear her strange and silly kindness that doesn't change the fact that for him Lucile, the fleshling,remained an outsider, just like everyone else.

He didn't need anyone else other than his brother, and sooner or later she would be tired of him.

Everyone got tired of him in the end, it was only a matter of time.

And judging by the situation in which they were Lucile would last a day before deciding to abandon the cold-hearted, insensitive and selfish creature who he was.

Sunstreaker began by ignoring her.

He pretended not to see Lucile turn around to deal with the fat chicken or note the way she looked at him, he just looked at the sky and start counting.

After all, how many cycle she would last before giving up on him?

* * *

Three solar cycle.

Three slagging solar cycle and she was still here, curled up on his chest with the two last remaining stones squeezed between her fingers and her little head lolling to the side.

How was even possible?

There was supposed to be a limit to a fleshling's stubbornness, right?

Yet Lucile was adamant.

In spite of the difference in size between her and the fat chicken, an heron he corrected himself, she had told to him that thing's real name the second sun cycle, at every shake of his giant wings Lucile replied with a stone.

And there were many stone, so many as to have lost count of them.

An example?

The heron croaked, and in response she struck him with a stone.

He made a sign to wanting to advance, then came another stone.

Again, so many stone.

Sunstreaker was therefore impressed by her bravery and temperament, and as insofar as he refused to admit it, he began to worry about Lucile.

Her tiny stature was enough to inform him of how frail she was, and the little sleep she had gained when also the heron had abandoned himself on exhaustion was not sufficient.

- Enough.

It was less than a whisper, too low to wake up the animal but high enough to make him open his optics.

_Finally_ she had given up.

That was what Sunstreaker repeated to himself while Lucile fidgeted on his chest in an attempt to get off from him and run away.

It took her a little more of time, but as soon as her little feet had touched the ground an unexpected sense of loneliness attacked him.

He growled.

As if _he _could feel abandoned.

And by whom?

By a little and annoying fleshing._ Disgusting._

_He_ had wanted her to go. He had not asked for _anything._

It was for the best. Yes.

_It was._

So why see her disappear among the tress bothered him?

It was ridiculous. He was a_ slaggin_ Autobot. He was a warrior, not a pathetic human.

It was Optimus, the kind and understanding Optimus to worry about the feelings, not him.

Sunstreaker had no feelings. He had not time for such rubbish.

Right.

So why he kept looking at the point where she had just disappeared?

_Why_?

Perhaps it will be better for him to recharge. Yes. Recharge, at least before that little beast awoke, and judging by the sudden noise it had just happened.

Maybe Primus was angry with him, who could know, but he was just too tired to worry or open his optics.

Too tired.

And then he heard it.

A scream.

A human scream.

_Her_s.

The time to find out what was going on that a swirl of colors pounced on the animal taken by surprise from his attacker, Lucile.

The surprise and the unexpected bubble of heat in his spark prevented him from following the clash between them although from his position he can see very little.

A couple of dins, another shout, and then nothing more.

It had all happened so fast that Sunstreaker found it hard to believe that he had not just imagined it, but something must have happened because the weight of the heron was gone.

Could it be that Lucile had attacked him? Alone?

_For Primus's sake, _he was twice her size, she could not win, brave or not.

How stupid and irresponsible could-

- I've done it.

It was Lucile's voice, unquestionably, but what came out from behind his left pede was a … _what the slag was that __now_?

Lucile waved her hands excitedly when she met his gaze, her thick and black hair messed up as if she had survived a storm.

- I won – she chirped, eyes bright as stars – I won, Cybertronian.

- What's on your head?

- On my head?

- Yes.

- Oh, it's a pot.

- And around you?

- Around me?

- _Yes._

_- _A carpet.

- And in your hand?

- A broom.

- Why?

- Why what?

- _Why _did you wear _those things?_

Lucile seemed to fall from the clouds, her arms now hanging along her sides.

- Why should not I wear those things?

_Oh good Primus_, not again, for the love of Him.

- _Explain_ – he ordered.

- It's my armor.

- Your armor.

- Yes.

What he could say now?

- This is the reason I left – she explained, voice suddenly low and serious - to build my armor and send away the heron.

And then she looked at him with so much sincerity and strength to leave him without words. Again.

- I told you. I'll protected you. Did you not believe me Cybertronian?

No. He had not believed her. But maybe he could, a little. Perhaps.

- It's Sunstreaker.

- What? – she asked, blinking.

- My name. It's Sunstreaker.

- It's a nice name.

- I know.

- You are cocky.

- I know that too.

- Mine is still Lucile, by the way.

- I know.

- I know that you know it.

- You are weird.

- And you are rude.

- Why?

- Because you did not believe me.

Smile was not in his circuits, but it seemed that Lucile, his little and noisy bug had infected his processor to such an extent to make him almost believe that smile was not so wearisome.

_Almost._


	4. 4 - Nocturnal chitchats

If there was one thing_, _and he _knew_ that he was having an optimistic view of the horrible, _horrible_ things that had happened to him since his arrival to Earth, for which Sunstreaker had to feel grateful was that, among all the possible alternatives, to find him had been Lucile.

The reason?

For one thing she was smart. _Really_ smart.

It was _not _something to be underestimated given that Earth was not known for the intelligence of its dominant race.

And mind you, he was not talking about human's IQ. It would have been too simple.

What he meant was a mental sharpness which draws its sustenance from something deeper, more complicated and less obvious than a common feature such as intelligence was.

_Everybody _had been endowed with intellect, even the Decepticons, which was saying _something _considering _who_ was among their ranks.

No. He was referring to a wisdom that not anyone was able to cultivate, let alone to refine it, something he had surprisingly found in her, a ten years old little human.

And although it was not something to complain about, it was not _normal_. Not at all.

- I can see them.

The way she saw Sunstreaker wince at the sound of her voice made Lucile smile while the initial surprise appeared in his eyes gave away to a more familiar annoyance.

Not that after just six days she could claim the right to know him so well and therefore be able to say what expect for him, but Lucile had always been an excellent observer.

- You can see_ what_?

- The wrinkles.

Expect to receive from her a _normal _reply had been foolish of him, how could it be otherwise?

He was talking with_ Lucile,_ and since he had opened his optics Sunstreaker _had not_ received anything normal from her.

- I don't want to know – Sunstreaker grumbled.

- You don't want to know what?

Close the optics would have deprived him of the sight of that small but brilliant head bent to the side and of those black eyes able to pierce his helm to rummage in his processor.

He could have done it, but something told him that she would find a way to make him feel her presence anyway, so go along with her was his only chance to not glitch.

- What were you saying?

Lucile weighted him in silence for a few seconds before smiling and pointing him with a thin finger.

- The wrinkles.

- What about them? – he asked condescendingly.

- If you keep frowning that way you will have them. The wrinkles I mean.

- I _don't_ have wrinkles. It's physically impossible.

- In fact mine was a metaphor - and maybe it was the light-hearted way she had said it to take him by surprise, or the sly smile with which she looked at him or… wait a minute.

_Sly_? She was a slaggin ten year old girl, she just _can't_ be sly!

Yet there was no other way to describe that smile or the vibrant light in her eyes, as she… as she… _she_…

- _Are you mocking_ _me fleshling?_

It began with a tinkle.

An annoying and uncontrolled tinkle that Lucile tried to stifle with the little hands pressed over her mouth, eyes alight with amusement, as if there was_ really_ something to laugh about.

But she must have found his indignant scowl particularly amusing, because even before he could silence her with a dangerous hiss Lucile had rolled back for the strength of the laughter.

And for Primus's sake, even her laugh was abnormal!

It was too slagging strong, and loud, but like all the things he had seen her do that too was heartfelt and honest.

Mind you, he _also_ was honest in what he did, but his candor was cruel and wicked, something for which it was difficult to smile, while hers, the spontaneity with which she acted was not meant to hurt or fool anyone.

Plus Lucile had a strange perception of what was right or wrong, because joke with him was indeed a _wrong_ thing.

After all, no one joke with Sunstreaker.

There was nothing to laugh about with him and especiallynot _on_ him.

It was hard enough to have to deal with him, he did not allow the possibility, but unlike the others, she was able and _wanted_ to overlook his black humor and the grumpiness that made him unpleasant among his fellow, so that, for some absurd reason that he still found hard to understand, she found him _funny._

When Lucile caught the hint of a grin on his face, she let the laughter fade slowly, returning to sit with a push that Sunstreker did not take long to notice.

- What? – she asked.

- I still don't understand.

- What do you not understand?

- What you _really are._

_- _I'm Lucile.

- I was not referring to your denomination – he muttered nervously, optics narrowed with annoyance.

She copied his move instinctively, amused by how often he would wear that troubled expression.

It seemed that he could not do anything else.

Gloomy. Surly. Stiff. Sneering. Those were the aspect of the personality that Lucile had learned about, but which Sunstreaker did not want to put in the light the softer part.

Because she _knew _that there was softness in him.

Perhaps he did not even realize it, but more than once, when he thought he was not observed, she had noticed the way he was looking at the sky.

His eyes changed when he did it, they were colored by a sad shade of gray, a tonality of which she knew the meaning.

Longing for something. Someone.

A feeling that she understood too well.

- Why are you looking at me that way now? It's creepy.

His sour tone startled her, and Lucile was about to ask him what he meant when the distant ringing of the home phone interrupted her thought and trailed off her voice.

And it was perhaps for the sad look that Lucile suddenly directed behind or the way her shoulders sagged once she was back on her feet, Sunstreaker could not say it with certainty, but even when he saw her go away, saying goodbye with a wave of the hand, that sense of discomfort did not abandon him, nor his gaze left her.

Optics clouded by a shadow of concern that Lucile, lost in herself as she was, had not had the chance to see.

* * *

Receive calls was a rarity in Dumas's home, a sporadic occurrence which made the incoming calls synonymous of trouble, because even though it was a rarity, to make it so it was necessary for something to happen, and of this rare event were responsible only two people.

Her grandma Lucrecia and her personal doctor.

No one else.

They were the only ones to call, the only ones to have the number, simply the only ones to contact her.

So there was no way to be wrong, especially since the latter used to limit their contact on the basis of monthly appointments, and Lucile remembered to have heard him last week.

Therefore, she had known from the beginning whose would be the voice on the other side of the receiver, only that she did not understand the reason for that call, not since her grandmother would return the next day.

But in truth Lucile had expected it.

Ever since she had heard the first ring, after every step necessary to reach her room, she knew, _knew_ what Lucrecia was about to say.

After all it had already happened before.

Not that her grandma lied to her when she said she was leaving for work, it was true, but when she informed her of a delay in the delivery that required her attention and a week or a month longer than expected then it was in that that Lucile saw the lie.

A white and harmless lie that was aimed to protect her.

Too bad she knew the truth.

However Lucile had never had the courage to tell her, frightened by the thought of being able to cause her pain with the knowledge of what was going on.

She had preferred to keep quiet in the hope that her grandma would have accepted it as she had done, none of them could do anything anyway.

And that, _that _was exactly what hurts her, Lucrecia 's inability to give up, that fierce will to find a remedy that did not exist, to create false hopes that once crushed would hurt too much.

She had been crying for the whole call, but Lucile had been careful to swallow the tears before answering her questions.

She had to bite her tongue not to prey her grandma to come back and use the time available with her rather than around the world, but like every time she was on the verge to _tell_ her the fear returned to freeze the words in her mouth.

Her grandmother had told her to be a good girl before end the call, and as always she had promised.

Then the bed had accepted her trembling figure with a soft croak, the pillow wet with the tears that swelled her throat and eyes, hands rushed to cover her sobs for fear that Sunstreker might hear them.

He had to feel alone without her, although he would never admit it, but he would have to wait a little longer, the time for her to finish the tears and wash her face.

Just a little.

Yes.

A little.

Just a little more.

* * *

Sunstreaker was furious.

Incredibly and unquestionably furious, and he did nothing to hide it. Quite the opposite.

He _wanted_ that his mood was sensed by his surroundings, especially with that little and annoying fleshling who had ignored him for the whole day.

And no one ignored Sunstreaker.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent _too much_ of his precious time to analyze her behavior that besides having angered he had caused that annoying itch in his processors.

_Absolutely nothing_.

The reason for his anger lay in the fact that she _had allowed_ him to get bored, and if there was one thing he hated was that.

Be bored.

Because if he was bored than he began to think, and that was not a good thing.

Because Sunstreaker needed to distract himself for not glitch at the thought of not being still reunited with Sideswipe in addition to the fact of not being able to do _absolutely nothing._

Therefore, he had all the right to be angry and to blame her.

After all, he was too selfish to consider himself responsible for his own misery and too jealous of his staff to share it, so be ignored by Lucile who could be considered_ his_ clumsy caretaker was not tolerable.

He would have made sure to make her feel guilty at the first opportunity and that one showed with the sound of familiar footsteps.

Yet the fierce grin with which Sunstreaker had decided to welcome her cracked slightly when his optics recognized in the dark the petite figure, noticing immediately that something was wrong.

_Terribly wrong._

The first thing to shock him was her posture.

Lucile walked, in fact, with her head down, her thick and wavy black hair to cover what little skin escaped from the cocoon of blankets in which she had wrapped herself and that made her steps incredibly clumsy.

But what really left him stunned was the absence of that liveliness that he was beginning to find almost reassuring.

- What happened?

With a start Lucile interrupted the shaky walk, but she was quick enough to suppress the urge to lift her chin and follow the low and dangerous voice of Sunstreaker who did not seem to appreciate that sudden display of shyness.

- What happened? - he asked again, his optics narrowed for the growing anger derived from an answer that was slow to come – I'm not a patient bot, fleshling, what-

- Can I sleep with you?

Wait.

_What?_

He had not seen it coming. Not such a request at least.

- I don't-

- Can I sleep with you? – Lucile murmured again, her voice so tiny and frail to disturb him –_ please_?

Sunstreaker looked at her like he perhaps never had looked before, his processor devoid of the poison with which he bathed his words and sparks, and he marveled about what he found. What he _felt._

There was a brief of shock inside him, a wave of something to which he would not give a name, a pleasant warmth able to snatch a hiccup to his spark before the need to put a stop to that odd feeling led him to smile dryly.

- If I say no would it make any difference? Until now you did what you wanted, right? – he teased her, his voice a little less sharp, but when Lucile gave no sign that she had caught the sarcasm Sunstreaker could not help but roll his optics and mutter a curse.

- Come on Lucile, I don't have all the lunar cycle!

With a surprising speed she began to climb on him, the blanket to wave on her shoulder like the mantle of a superhero while he kept trying to catch her eyes.

But only when she sank down on his chest with the blanket once again around her Lucile allowed him to meet her eyes, finally realizing why she had kept them low.

They were puffy. Reddened. Glossy and tired, but still able to smile at him with kindness.

- You said my name – she chirped excitedly, snatching him to the contemplation of the wet trail on her cheeks to aim at her an indignant look.

- _You are lying_.

- I'm not – Lucile contradicted him, frowning.

_Of course _he knewit was true, but right now it was not about his slip of tongue that he wanted to talk.

Plus something told him that she was trying to change the subject, somethinghe_ obviously_ would not allow.

- What happened? – he pressed again, catching the slight stiffening of her posture.

- Nothing – she answered quickly. _Too quickly._

Lucile was hiding something from him, something that had the ability to make her cry and sadden her, a chance he had never taken into account.

After all, she was _Lucile_.

The little, noisy, chatty, annoying and always smiling Lucile, not some stupid and whimpering fleshling.

And perhaps the thought of being able to list her quality would make him cringe, but Sunstreaker was too busy to be annoyed with whatever had caused the change in her behavior to worry about his own insanity.

- Do not you dare lie to me fleshling.

- I'm not.

- You're.

- I'm not.

_Fragg it!_

- _Why must you be so slagging annoying?_

Lucile pouted her lips in a gesture of frustration, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

She had not gone there to talk about her problems, she was not emotionally ready for that and perhaps would never be, but it was the first time that Sunstreaker made the effort to strike up a conversation.

The first time he seemed interested to know something about her, an attempt to make a bond between them.

- Let's play a game.

A moment of astonished silence followed her suggestion, the time for Sunstreaker to reformulate the phrase without hiding his instinctive distrust.

- _Why_?

- So we can know each other better – was the obvious answer she gave him, an obviousness that he still found hard to grasp, but he decided to let her do what she wanted for the health of his processors.

- _Fine._

- It's a turn-based game.

- What for?

- To prevent you to be the only one to ask questions and not to respond to any of mine.

Okay, that was weird. _Really _weird.

How the Pit did she find out? Was he so obvious?

Or maybe she knew him well enough to predict his moves.

_Creepy_. And disturbing. But a smart move, he recognized it, a smart but still creepy move.

Clever femme.

- So each of us asks a question to the other – she went on to explain - One question and one answer. We can't refuse to answer, but we have the possibility to choose one thing which we can refuse to talk about. It's our veto power.

- You're smart – he thought aloud, amazed by her bright mind without realizing that he had made it sound like an insult with his surprised tone, but Lucile chose to ignore him, clutching the blanket around herself before looking him in the eyes with resolve.

- Ready?

- Go ahead fleshling.

- How did you get here? – she asked.

- It's a long story-

- You cannot refuse to answer!

- Alright. I was attacked.

The way he saw her eyes widen amused him, but with the growing concern in her gaze Sunstreaker chose not to tease her.

- Who attacked you? – Lucile whispered, her face pale and worried.

- One question fleshling, remember? I-

- It's part of the question – and she even managed to make it sound like a matter-of-fact-.

- Who attacked you?

- Starscream, no one who-

- Star scream? – Lucile interrupted him, a_gain_, her lips curled into a grimace – It sounds strange. Starscream. No. I don't like the name, it makes me think about something hysterical.

Abruptly the chest on which she was curled up, vibrated for the laugh that shook Sunstreaker gears, an amusement that he found difficult to stop, but that he forced himself to limit to the cunning gleam of his optics.

- I could not describe him better. _Hysterical_! You're a slagging talent! – he roared with another uncontrolled laugh, but Lucile did not seem to share his amusement.

Not even a bit.

- He is still looking for you? Are you in danger? What-

- Wow, slow down little glitch. No one is in danger here, and even if there was the possibility, I made him harmless for some Orn, so- but for him there was no way to finish the sequence, not when he caught with a shiver of fear a look that he had seen on her before.

- _No_.

The hardness of his tone startled Lucile, but that was nothing compared to the wilder look she had ever seen on him, an expression so cruel to make her feel uncomfortable for the first time.

- But I- she tried, ending up with being interrupted by a low and throaty hiss.

- _No_. I know what your little and crazy head had thought and no. In_no slagging way_ I will allow it.

- I don't under-

- Yes, you do. I recognize that look, it's the same of when you're about doing something incredibly stupid.

Lucile stared at him for a while, still troubled by his words before lowering her head and pull the blanket to cover her face, her voice again small and insecure.

- But I want to protect you.

There it was again. The _hiccup_.

Always short. Always odd.

Yet that time Sunstreaker did not ignore the warmth, but filled his voice with a little of the strange fondness he felt for a tiny being who occasionally could unleash a soft squeeze in his spark.

- I'm flattered, but no. So, no rock. No stones. No-

- And lemons? Lemons are okay, right?

_What?_

_- _I… I don't think to understand.

- Lemons. Can I use lemons?

- To do what?

- To hit him. To hit Starscream.

_Oh Primus_.

- You want to hit Starscream with _lemons_?

- Yes, but my grandma's lemon. You know, their juice is more sour than the normal ones. And since I can't use the rocks, then I can use the lemons. The stones would not do anything to him anyway, after all you are made of metal, but lemons can do something. If we can dirty his hands with my grandma lemon juice we should wait for him to bring his hand on his eyes and we won! You know, lemon juice burns eyes, even yours, so while he is temporarily blind we can run away. So? Can I use them? Can I?

- Are you serious?

- Of course!

- No.

- Why not? It's an excellent plan!

He was not having such a strange conversation. No. It was not happening.

Sunstreaker_ really_ tried to believe himself, but in front him there was that little and crazy fleshling who continued to look at him with a pout.

And although the image of her intent to launch lemons to Starscream could make him laugh, the thought of that son of Unicron a few feet from her terrified him.

No. That slagging Decepticons should not even dare to come near her.

_No_.

- No.

Lucile tried to rebel against him, but there was still that hard look to convince her not to pull the string too much.

- Fine. Well, It's your turn. What's your question?

Yes. What's his questions?

There were many things he wanted to know, _so many_, but there was one that right from the start had raised more questions about her habits.

- What is the little bag you always carry with you?

Cold.

Lucile felt a cold shiver cross her back when she heard the question, the last one she wanted to get.

She did not expect it. Or maybe she had only hoped to make her oddness go unnoticed.

After all, he did not know human habits.

And she had tried to be as natural as possible, but or Lucile had betrayed herself in some way or Sunstreaker knew about human more than she believed at first.

Maybe it was that way. Maybe he understood. Maybe-

_No_.

Trembling, she tightened the grip around the small handbag from under the cover.

No. He didn't know. Because if he had known then his eyes would be changed.

_He_ would be changed. Just like everyone else.

_No_. He didn't know. And so it would have to be until the end.

Sooner or later he would go away, herself would help him to do so, after all that was not his place.

Not in her garden. Not in her life. Not with her.

After all someone was waiting for him out here, she was sure of that.

What was the point then?

Confess would only make things weird, and that was the last thing she wanted.

She was already happy.

Why ruin happy things? There was no reason.

So she just shook her head under the puzzled look of Sunstreaker.

- Really? _A bag_? You use the veto power for a _bag_?

- Yes.

He watched her for a long time. How much he did not know, but not enough to find an answer to that other oddity on which he would later found an explanation.

- Fine. Then what about your creator?

- Creator? You mean Jesus?

- Not one of your gods fleshling. Your creator. Your Parents. Where are they?

Well, that for her was pretty simple to explain.

- They gave up on me.

The tone she had used had been quiet and expressionless as the ones used to explain something simple, something taken for granted, but there was nothing of the sort in her statement.

As if being abandoned and reject by a creator could be considered _normal_.

No. It was not acceptable. Not according to his processor.

No creator could repudiate his progeny.

It was against nature. Against every Cybertronian law.

Even his and Sideswipe's creator, as cold and heartless as she was towards them, had recognized them as her own.

But the more he looked at her coolly expression, the less he understood how it was possible for a race known for its attachment to the children to make such an _abomination._

- I did not want to upset you – she consoled him, catching Sunstreaker by surprise with a look too adult on her still unripe features.

_Wrong._

It was all wrong. Her expression. Her words. The sympathetic tone of her voice.

Why? What was he missing?

_- _ It's alright, really. I'm not sad anymore. After all, I have my grandma.

- How could they give up on you? - and there was so much venom and anger in his voice to make her jump in surprise before the real reason for Sunstreaker's harsh reaction made her smile with affection.

Because he was not angry with her, but_ for_ her.

Such a softy he was, but Lucile had always known that there was much more behind his mask.

So much more.

- I know you would not have done the same if you were in their place.

It was true.

He would not have done the same if she was his sparkling. If she… he shook his head.

- But it's alright. I'm not sad anymore. So, it's my turn again. Are you ready?

- I'll never be with you – was his dry comment.

- Fine. Then this is the question. Why did you come here?

A flash of sorrow clouded his optics before Sunstreaker answered.

- To find my brother.

Chaos.

Absolute and total chaos was what followed his confession.

It came unexpectedly, but when it burst, he found himself with a noisy and overactive Lucile pressed against his face plate.

- You have a brother? Why do you not tell me? What's his name? Where is he? Can I meet him? Do you think he will like me? And if-

- _Enough_ – he roared, silencing immediately the little being who raised in him a sheepish gazes.

- I'm sorry.

- Got to sleep fleshling, we played enough for today.

- But-

- No. It's late for you, after all you come here to sleep. Am I wrong?

Lucile shook her head in resignation, but instead of returning at her place she curled up in silence a little higher up on his chest, above his spark.

- Why did you go there?

- It's warmer here than where I was before.

The grunt with which Sunstreaker commented her statement tore her a wince and a confused expression.

- What?

- It's obvious that it is warmer. It's my spark.

- What's a spark?

- It's my heart and soul.

- _Oh._

Gently she rested her ear on his chest, her wavy and long hair to cover her half closed-eyes.

And then, with a gasp, Lucile looked up, a soft and excited smile on her face.

- I hear it – she whispered.

Sunstreaker smiled a little, his optics on the point of closing in recharge when-

- So what's his name?

Oh. _Primus_.

-_Sleep_.

- Not until you tell me his name.

_Stubborn femme_.

- Sideswipe. His name is Sideswipe.

- And is he older than you?

- Only the name – he roared, annoyed with her slagging curiosity – This was _all _you wanted to know.

- But It's important!

- No. It's not. And now go to sleep.

- No.

- _Lucile_-

- You said my name again – she giggled, and as often happened, _too often_ for his taste, Sunstreaker surrendered.

- No. We are twins, so no. He is not older than me.

- Twins? – Lucile marveled - It's a cool thing. Be twins, I mean. Isn't it?

- Maybe. Even if hear and feel the voice and the emotion of your stupid brother all the slagging time it is not _cool. _And believe me when I say that he can be, stupid, _ really, really _stupid.

There it was the person to whom he thought when he looked at the sky.

The person who could bring out Sunstreaker's soft part.

His twin brother.

A person she would never be able to meet, but from whom maybe she could be heard. Maybe.

- How?

- What?

- How do you feel him? His voice and emotions? How?

Again a strange question. But Sunstreaker was too tired to make a scene.

- We have the same spark, so I feel what he feel and vice versa. Why?

- And now? Can he feel you now?

- Yes, even if the distance disturbs the signal – and then he paused, confused by the flash of happiness darted for a moment in her eyes.

- Can I talk to him then?

But for him there was no time to reply, because Lucile did not wait to receive an answer, and even before he could say anything she had approached her face to his chest, a tiny smile on her mouth.

- Hi – she began, attracting the more and more confused gaze of Sunstreaker as she bent her head to the side, almost as she were trying to find a more comfortable position to do whatever she was doing.

What, he did not know, but when he did something inside him writhed gently.

- My name is Lucile. It's been rude of me to not introduce myself before, but I _swear_ I did not know about you, not until now, so here I am. You have a nice name, do you know? Sideswipe. Yes, a really nice name.

Anyway, I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you that your brother is not alone, so you don't need to worry. He'll be fine. I'll help and protect him. I promise. And if-

But Sunstreaker was no longer able to feel.

Not her kind and small voice.

Not the gently pats on his chest.

Nothing.

He could feel nothing.

He was numb. Dizzy.

Maybe for her words. Or maybe because he was not used to receive _so much._

So much kindness.

So much care.

So much love. Yes. Love. Lucile was drowning him in it. In love. It was even possible to have so much love inside?

How?

_How_?

- Did he hear me?

With a start Sunstreaker came to feel again, to hear her voice and to see the hopeful look on her face.

- What?

- Sideswipe. Did he hear me?

Maybe he did. Maybe he did not. Sunstreaker did not know if her voice had come up to his brother given the distance, but the flicker of his spark, Sideswipe must have felt that. Yes.

He must have felt that.

- Yes.

The smile she gave him was the most radiant that he had seen, the proof of how much more was still in her.

Too much for a body as small as hers.

But if there was one thing he had learned from Lucile, was that the size did not matter and that looks can be deceiving.

- Sleep now.

- Alright, but can we play again tomorrow?

- Yes.

- And after tomorrow?

- _Sleep_. _Now_.

With a muttering she hid under the blanket but not before giving him a pout for which he smiled weakly.

- Sunstreaker?

He did not open his optics, he was too tired and confuse to move, but he grumbled to make her know he was listening anyway.

- I'll help you to go back to him. I promise.

Another promise.

So many promises by who in return did not expect to receive anything.

Such a strange creature Lucile was, but a creature in whom he began to believe, in her and in the promises that he knew she would keep.

All of them.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! **


	5. 5 - Give yourself a chance

Normally, questions were being asked to learn something about someone else, it was the most common form to discover the other, the world and what seems to us unknown, and it did not matter what or who was the subject, the modality was always the same for anyone.

One question. One answer.

An easy concept to understand, to adopt, but for a selfish being which Sustreaker had always been, inquire about what others liked was ridiculous as well as pointless.

Why would he do that?

He didn't care about the world, let alone about the _other,_ and he was too lazy and bored to care about what he didn't know, he simply let it go.

In fact, look for points in common with the other was a social activity adopted by those who were _interested _in what they were asking to establish a bond, and that was _exactly_ the reason why Sunstreaker shunned what for him looked like a total loss of time_, his_ precious time.

And no one was never worthy of his time, except for his brother _obviously. _

However, it was not only his cynical nature to have limited the circle of his affections to a single being, it was his very Cybertronian nature to require a careful and thoughtful choice about who to appoint as a possible link.

Their ties, unlike those of humans, were eternal.

The self-same act of tying someone up was much more complex and deeper than any declaration of love or affection.

Friend, comrade, no matter what was the title, every choice involved more than a few words of devotion or promises that the time and opportunity would have broken.

The eternity in their culture took a fatalistic and tragic tinge, because in their case there was no chance to pick up the pieces if even one of those links had been destroyed, no chance to replace what was once lost.

Waste one of those ties meant to be deprived from a part of themselves, and there was a limit to how much a Cybetronian could afford to lose before losing himself in the act.

It was indeed necessary to choose with care with who bind themselves, a choice that would affect their judgment on whatever and whoever surrounded them.

The relationship with those who did not belong to their affective sphere were indeed woven according to the danger that the outsider could represent for the stability and the safeguard of their bond.

That one was the priority.

Protect the family. Shield the ties. Take care of the sparkling.

Thus, bind to something as fragile as a human being would mean condemning himself to an inevitable suffering, and yet, Sunstreaker felt no remorse for allowing Lucile to get so close to his spark, a decision taken in accordance with a bizarre logic that had always distinguished him from the other.

His was a linear thought, a reasoning which consisted of a few factors.

Him. Her. And what he wanted.

Nothing too complicated after all.

So, from something so simple there was an answer as much as simple.

And mind you, that one was not the result of a whim, or the need to repay her unnatural kindness, his was a decision taken on the basis of what had been a distinctive trait of his processors.

_Selfishness_.

Selfishness was what moved his every action, his every thought.

It was not so surprising. Everyone knew that Sunstreaker acted with ulterior motives.

Everything he did was for himself or his brother.

He took what he wanted, what could make both happy, and surprisingly Lucile had become one of the few things able to make him feel that way.

So why not?

Sunstreaker did not want to deny himself and his brother the chance to be happy when the opportunities were so few, when the number of creatures capable to penetrate their armor were equal to zero.

Yes. He was fond of her, of a _fleshling_, something inconceivable for him who had proclaimed himself hater of all mankind since from the beginning, but it had happened anyway, and most importantly, with such naturalness to confuse him.

Love and be loved by him required more than a being was willing to give.

All or nothing, that was his way of love, how Sunstreaker wanted and _pretended _to be loved, something of which no one was capable of.

Gives oneself completely was scary, dangerous, a deprivation that the fear of being betrayed and left to their own made it impossible to accomplish, but that was the way to love and to be loved by a Cybertronian.

Unconditionally and eternally.

No second thought. No second chances. Nothing.

So how could a human, a selfish creature brought to the preservation of his own survival at the expense of that of others, be able to love like that?

Simply. He could not, it was not in his nature.

But she, she could do it.

Lucile knew how to love, _how to be different from others, _it has been clear since the beginning, since those kind and knowing eyes had rested on him without the fear of the different.

And it mattered little that he was not able to hurt them because of his condition, regardless the circumstance he would be attacked, instead he had been spared, and protected, taken care of, _even loved_, moreover of a love that only his brother had been able to give him, changeless and unpretentious as well as her promises had been.

Because she had sworn that she would help him, and in the small of her ability she had, from the first moment, beginning with the building of stuff manikin to ward off the birds he saw flying over his heads and ending with the connecting of the wire of his processors to the electric generator of her house.

Lucile had proved to be clever and hard-headed despite her age.

She did not give up easily, and no matter how hard the situation seemed, in a way or in another she had always found a solution to his problem.

She was good, too good for her own sake. In fact, Lucile's knowledge went beyond what a child should have known, so much so that he had come to ask the reason during their turn-based game

Books. That was her answer. Piles and piles of book.

Lucile loved to read. Sometimes, when the night was not too cold, she even lay on his face plates to show him the figures from the book she was reading for the three of them.

Three. Not two.

For him. For herself. And for Sideswipe.

Since she had learned about his brother every game, every drawing or reading was also addressed to him, as if he was with them, a concern that had struck him.

Because she understood, unlike others, that he and Sideswipe were a single entity, an indivisible being who had to be appreciated and accepted in his entirety, never separately, even when the defects of one obscured the merits of the others so as to make impossible to want them both.

- I'm not _so_ fat.

The puff of warm air that suddenly embraced her back brought Lucile to look up from the sketchbook on which she was drawing in silence for a while, a confused expression on her face.

- You've drawn me fat - was the explanation Sunstreaker gave to her through the speakers.

Lucile looked back at the sketchbook with a frown, not quite sure what he was referring to.

Had she overplayed the pencil's line?

No. She hadn't.

The lines were clean and thin, nothing to complain about.

Of course hers was the drawing of a ten year old girl, nothing too elaborate, certainly not a masterpiece, but something cute, an adjective that several times Sunstreaker had diminished with disgust if associated with his person.

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Handsome.

Those were the only qualities know in his vocabulary, the only ones that can be addressed to, in his own word_, a stunning being_ as he was, therefore it was not her drawing to make him look fat, because whatever she had done with him as the protagonist, it would always be the victim of controversy knowing his narcissism.

- That's not true.

One of his wipers shot up when he saw Lucile lift her chin with decision, eyes brightened by the strength of her adamant conviction, another thing for which he admired her, and there was much to appreciate in Lucile, as the security that, no matter how much time he passed to dissemble or confuse her thoughts, nothing could change her mind, bend her will or break her spirit.

- You've drawn me fat – he repeated with boredom, hiding the spontaneous smile born on his gears when Lucile tapped the pencil on the dashboard, her face flushed with embarrassment.

It was nice to have her so close, especially since he was able to take his alternate form.

That way he could have her closer, even when the night grew colder. It was enough to turn on the heating to warm her up, and the seats could become a soft and comfortable bed.

Yes. He had no way to have a sophisticated design as he wanted, and he had to be content with the anonymous machine that Lucile had in her house's garage, but he was still grateful to have a little more freedom of movement.

As cycles went on, Sunstreaker had begun to appreciate more and more her presence, at times, when the frustration of being able to do so little assailed him, he was even grateful that she was with him.

If it had not been so, things would have been worse, so much worse.

She had become a steady, a certainty, because, despite everything, Lucile would always be there when he needed her, and there was no need to hear it every time, he _knew _it.

It was one of those things that can't be explained, but are known, just as he knew that Sideswipe would do the same. Because he was his brother. Because she was Lucile. That's it.

With a puff she lay back on the skin of the seat, eyes on the drawing that she had raised to make sure that they both could see it.

It was a nice picture, but not that you would expect to receive from a little girl.

Three and houses were the subject that normal children would have drawn, hers were instead strange alien, tall as skyscrapers, hand in hand with a tiny swirl of color that represented her.

Odd. Unusual. And maybe a little bizarre, but nice, and heartfelt, just as her feeling were.

Sunstreaker had seen dozens of those drawings, all different, all colored, but always with smiling characters, a way to remember her once he was gone Lucile said, the memory of a chapter of his life to carry with him whenever he go, to share with his brother.

_As if he could forget her. _

_As if he could let her go._

He couldn't. He won't.

After all, he was a selfish creature, and as such he would act.

Sunstreaker had never stopped sending signals to his brother, not even for a moment, a useless movement seen his condition, but since Lucile had connected him to the generator, as insofar as weak as the flux of energy was, his processors were able to recharge at least a little.

Not much, but a little, _the necessary_.

Obviously she knew nothing of it.

Nor about his attempt to reveal his position to Sidewispe. Nor about his decision to take her away with him.

Perhaps he had decided it unknowingly since from the beginning, but nevertheless, let her go had never been among the choices.

And why? Why let her go?

Take her away with him was the best choice, and most importantly, it was _what he wanted_, so why not?

After all, no one, not even Optimus would have a say in it.

Not against a _bond_, moreover with him Lucile would be safe and loved as she had not been among her own race, as a sparkling deserve.

He and his brother could take care of her, they could even be her creators.

Why not?

She was a sparkling. He loved her. His brother must have sensed the new bond, so why not?

Fleshlingwas the answer, the _negative _answer.

Because even if for him Lucile was no longer one of them ever since his processors and spark had labeled her as _his, _ for the others, for the Earth and the humans she was still one of their children, but not for him.

Killing them was the best choice, what he would do it only they had tried to take her away from him.

_As if he had allowed something like that._

_No one_ could put his hand on something of his own without suffering his wrath. No one.

Sunstreaker would have been willing to fight his own comrades, his own leader to get Lucile.

She deserved so much more than that life of suffering and renunciation she had, and he could give her the best.

_Him_.

What could be better than him? Than his love?

Nothing, not even the love of the fleshling she called grandmother.

Unlike that human he would never have left her alone, he would not leave her to deal with all that pain, the sadness that dirtied always her gaze.

He could give Lucile a second chance, the best chance, with him and his brother. He believed it.

He would have done it.

- Lucile?

- Yes?

- It's time to go.

The tip of the pencil broke, tainting the face she was drawing so careful to have lost track of time and space, something she often did when she wanted to escape from the real world to get lost in what she imagined.

There, everything was better, happier, she, was happier. She could do what she wanted.

Run without getting tired. Walk without hearing the whispers behind her back.

There, time stood still and waited for her, she did not have to chase it, while it had always been the opposite in reality.

Time was a weighty thing for her.

In truth, she was even scared of it.

Of time.

A huge grandfather clock, that's the way she had always imagined it.

A huge, black and imposing grandfather clock whose pendulum in its slow swing seemed to get closer and closer to her, while she could not move from its path.

Not even by a millimeter. Not even by a footstep.

When she was five she had even claimed that her grandmother took away all the clocks in the house, terrified as she had been, but when she hadrealized that the countdown was _inside her, _then she had allowed Lucrecia to put them back in place, and growing up, she had learned to take advantage of time instead to fear it.

There was a time for everything, and it was time to let him go.

Lucile had known since from the beginning that this time would come, because in the end everyone would go away without her.

It was a matter of time. It always was.

With a nervous movement of her hand she wiped the smear, ending with completely wipe her smiling face, and Lucile tried to smile anyway in the review mirror to let him know that everything was fine.

She will be fine. She had to.

- Is Sideswipe here? – she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

- He will be in a couple of hours.

- Oh – was all Lucile managed to say before lowering her face, her eyes moistened by the tears she was trying to hold back along with the words.

She should be happy for Sunstreaker, and she was, really, but the sorrow tightened her throat and prevented her from telling him how glad she was.

Because she loved him. She loved him so much to tremble at the thought to lose him, to return alone. Again.

But she knew, in her frail heart, that there was someone else waiting for him, for that complicated but kind creature of which she was so fond of, the cold and fake anti-hero who could rush to her aid without betraying the agitation which made his eyes tremble every time she fell or was too far away from him.

So how could she not love him?

After all, he had given an answer to the questions of a lifetime.

How would it have been to have a father, even for a moment.

She had imagined it so many times to get lost in her own fantasy.

How it would be? But more importantly, but most importantly, _what _was a father?

Was he kind or gruff?

Cruel or wicked?

Would he teach her to play and protect her from the monsters under the beds?

Or Would he ignore her cry? Her need of love?

She didn't know, even if Lucrecia had tried several times to be a father for her, but now, _now _Lucile knew.

A father was stern, but also kind.

Someone able to make you feel safe with a word or even an absent-minded look.

Who could soften the angular and sharp features of his nature for the comfort of his child.

And it was nice to have one.

Though who she had found as a father figure was an alien, odd, but she had always been odd, aware of how important it was to make happy those she loved even at the expense of her happiness.

So she smiled despite the sorrow, and she continued to do so even when she came out of the car to reach her room and prepare herself for a trip at the end of which she would come back, alone, one step closer to the pendulum that for a moment she managed to dodge.

Only for a brief moment.

But it was enough. It had to be enough for her.

* * *

Freedom was important, something owed, something vital.

Everybody had the right to be free. After all, they were born that way, and who was not, needed to be made such by those who had the power to release them from the chains, emotional or physical that they were, but it was not easy to release someone, to let them go.

It was painful, and sad, so much sad, to make you cry, and no one wanted to be like that, to deprive themselves from something that made them happy.

Selfishness made them blind and deaf to the suffering of the others, unable to understand that it was exactly their firm grip, that hand closed cruelty around the wrist of the other to do the most harm, to hurt the most, as if there wasn't already enough misery in the world.

But they were just scared, _so_ scared of suffering, of being and be left alone, of not being loved anymore to forget about anything else.

Yet they did not do it on purpose, it was an instinctive reaction, a primitive need.

To hide their heart. Protect themselves from pain and wounds. Cling to what we love even when doing so we destroy what we have.

It was easier. Safer. But not fairer.

Because there were other people to be aware of, who loved the same way those who we kept tied up, who we wanted to go down with us.

The heart was a fragile and selfish little thing, unable to stop loving, to let things go, it might even break in the attempt of doing so, but sometimes, it was necessary to loosen the grip and make them free, something to which she was accustomed since hers had always been too weak to be able to hold long something, someone.

The street light lit up her face as she proceeded at a brisk pace towards the bus stop, her rubber boots sinking in the puddles that she believe to be the gateway for others world. Better world, maybe.

So she had taken the habit to jump in to test her imagination and above all, to cover the whispers she generated in those who recognize her, but no one of the habitants of Tallahassee had ever called her by her first name, not even the kids of her area.

The people had referred to her with nicknames.

_That_ girl, s_he_ were the most common, but over time people and especially children had become more imaginative and _cruel. Really _cruel.

Lucile had always known that she was different from others, o_dd_, but as a child she did not understand why she get tired so quickly, too quickly compared to the other.

She had no breath to run with them, she always remained behind, breathless, with a sense of vertigo that more than once had forced her to step aside and watch the other play from afar, to be left alone.

Yes. Be ignored by her playmate had hurt her, be reject had done more harm, being teased by the other made her cry, but that was a pain to which she had become accustomed quickly, because the real suffering was reached after, when she understood that even her heart was different. Odd.

She had a bag. A cute and little yellow bag. Inside this cute little bag there was a battery, just like that of the remote-controlled toy car. This battery was connected to a wire. And the wire was linked to a centrifugal pump transplanted into her chest to help her little weak heart beat.

She was sick, but her illness could not be cured. She, could not be cured.

It was a matter of time.

Days. Month. Years. No one could estimate how much she could survive. _If_, she could survive.

She was a ten years old with a mechanical heart, born prematurely, a survivor in the medical field with all the possibility of rejection and the estimates of the survival of a patient who underwent transplantation of an artificial heart.

Yet it was never a matter of luck, or a miracle, it was her will to live to have kept her up until now.

Only her will.

- Frankenstein!

Her grip on the umbrella intensified in response to the voice she heard coming from the right, voice that she recognize and that instinctively made her flinch.

Because now the voice seemed to big, she too small, the street too dark.

_The world inside her too quiet._

She quickened her pace and only when the bus doors closed behind her with a hiss Lucile allowed herself to look back.

The angular face illuminated by the lamp post confirmed her suspicions about who had yelled one of her many nicknames.

Nicholas.

One of her old playmate. The most cruel.

It was him who give her the nickname of Frankeistein. Him to have tried to demagnetize her battery with a pair of magnets.

Always him the first to convince her to be wary of others, even her own peers.

Adults or children, it has never made much difference. She was a world apart, a world that none of them could and _want_ to understand, to accept.

The flash of headlight to her right convinced her to take a seat to the last spot, nose pressed to the window from which she recognized the sparkle of Sunstreaker's bodywork.

One of the passengers threw her a sidelong glance, but Lucile ignore him, preferring to wave her hand at him before lean against the backrest with a sigh.

She was tired, just as it was normal that she was, but Lucile had spent her life trying not to be afraid, or sad, or tired.

She had decided to not be a lot of things, for herself, but more importantly for her grandma, her old and tired grandma.

But no matter how strong it might have been her desire to be of help, to do something without the support of other, to be independent, there would always be things that she, alone, could not carry through.

She was a ten years old girl, after all, that was enough to limit greatly the things she could do without the help of someone, of an adult.

Yet Lucile had always tried to do her best. To be self-sufficient. To not give reason to complain about her.

As a child she had even limited her tantrum in the hope that perhaps things would change.

That everything would be fixed, that her family would be fixed, that she, would be fixed.

Silly, naïve little child.

Lucile knew she could not criticize her younger self for believing that the time will agree with her.

It was not normal. It was _cruel. _As if a child might have the power to change something. Someone.

But she had thought to do it. To be able to change her life. Her mother. Her father. Who was _supposed _to love and protect her.

How foolish she had been to not realize that the problem was not her. But _them._

It had always been them.

But how could she know? How could a little girl not believe to be responsible for the abandonment of her own parents?

_How?_

How could she know?

She couldn't. She just couldn't.

Too young to understand. Too naïve to grasp the unfairness of life. Too breakable to cushion the impact of the truth.

Yet she had never asked for much.

A family. That was all she wanted, what she knew she deserve.

Someone from whom to be loved unconditionally, a safe place in which hide, nothing more than that.

A silly request indeed, but it had been refused anyway, because her family had not been strong enough to love her. To love their own sick child.

Simply, to love.

They gave up on her. On their family. Something inconceivable for a kid, but the ease with which they had abandoned her, the simplicity of their action made her understand one important thing.

Love. Love was all that matter. What bound people. What was needed to start a family.

And they did not have it. Not for her. Not for anything.

Because love could heal the wounds of the heart.

It could make you strong. Brave. And happy.

All she wanted to be. All they weren't.

Brave to face the future.

Happy for the other.

And strong to protect what and who she loved, just as she was preparing to do for Sunstreaker.

* * *

It was cold outside. And windy.

Not that Lucile could feel it on her skin.

Sunstreaker would never have allowed her to take a cold, nor to wait the arrival of his brother at the mercy of the darkness in which they had been swallowed.

The road was almost completely dark if it had not been for a pair of street lamp and the little light of the bus stops, a few passing trucks to illuminate the car parked on the road side.

The taillights of a van launched a beam of light the small figure embraced by the soft leather of the seats, the matter hair to make her look like a little cat curled up on herself, a comparison that he had found to do often since he had known Lucile.

She was sleeping now, tired of the waiting that was proving to be longer than expected, but it was not his brother's fault.

His tardiness was caused in fact by the mistrust of the other Autobot, suspicious of Sidewsipe's desires to be a little on his own, as if the temper of Ironhide and the constant presence of the fleshling was not a good reason to seek a bit of space for himself.

But so it was. Thus, all that they could do was wait, and wait, and wait.

Yet, Lucile was not used to staying up so late, himself made sure to put her to sleep just after sunset, so as to make her rest as long as possible.

Because if human frailty had disgusted him, hers terrified him.

How could it be otherwise?

_Everything _on that slaggin planet could break Lucile, and since he had been able to recognize her physical limits Sunstreaker had made the whole world his enemy.

A rock. A branch. It does no matter to him, everything represented a danger for Lucile and her frail frame due to which he was in constant agitation.

His sensors analyzed incessantly her body, looking for possible flaws with a steady sense of uneasiness which made him unable to think or act clearly.

Yet, she never gave a sign of anxiety for her health, as if she had already accepted her fate a long time ago.

But he did not.

He could never.

- _I'm almost there Sunny._

Sideswipe's voice was a blow from the blue, but even before he could start the engine to reach his brother halfway and hit him a shot of light not far away and the unmistakable screech of tires on the wet asphalt warned him that there would have been no need.

Among the things that he had always appreciated, but also criticized in his brother, the impetuosity had always been the main subject, a character trait that accompanied his every gesture and that even at the time he did not fail to show.

His gears hissed for the effort to make the iron grip around his shoulders less harmful for his wounded figure and especially for Lucile whom he had had time to close in his servo to protect her from the impact of their bodies, but the more he withdrew, the more his stupid brother strengthened the grip.

- I'm so happy to see you Sunny!

- Say that name again and I'll crush your helm – he roared, punching him with his free hand – and stop immediately this ridiculous display of affection! Release me! Now!

With a loud laugh Sideswipe decided to give him some space, taking the opportunity to observe his petulant older brother and make sure of his condition.

Except for some chipping, the deeps cut on his chest and the painting ruined, he was well, a little unkempt, but all in all he was ok.

It could have been worse. Really worse.

After all, his brother had been wounded by the bloody Starscream.

He was alone, weak, unable to defend himself, and at the mercy of the enemy, and in spite of everything he had remedied only a few dents.

Thus he was lucky, because those were really minor injuries than those to which they were accustomed to.

So, _finally_, he allowed himself a sigh of relief, smiling briefly for the irritated expression of his brother.

- Nice work with the color there.

Confused by the comment, Sunstreaker looked down at the layers of tempera colors that Lucile had spread on his bruise to harmonize the color and make him look less messy, one of the many kindness which she had given him, a gesture of affection for which he found himself to raise on his brother an annoyed look.

- She did her best.

The resentful tone of his brother led Sideswipe to raise an eyebrow in surprise, caught off guard by his sourness, but it was then that his processors worked out a thought that he, taken as he had been by the euphoria, had overshadowed.

- Where is she? – he asked abruptly, his optics alight with curiosity and something else.

Maybe trepidation, or maybe not, but it was for that frantic reaction that Sunstreaker withdrew the servo to his chest, balancing his brother with scowling optics.

Then Sideswipe stopped struggling, observing in silence the defensive pose of his brother before frown in confusion.

- What?

He took a step forward, intrigued by how his brother was wary for his every movement.

A step forward for him. A step back for his brother, a rambling dance from which the elder recovered first.

- Enough! – Sunstreaker snapped - Don' . any. Closer.

- Why? – the other complained, pouting.

- Lucile should be handled with care and gentleness.

- And what's the problem? No one is more delicate than Sideswipe, come on – and he held out his large and restless servos –give her to me.

- No.

- No?

- No.

- Don't be selfish Sunny, let me hold her!

- It's not a matter of being selfish, brother, but forward-looking.

- Are you implying that I am not careful enough to hold her?

- I'm not implying it, I'm _stating_ it.

Outraged, Sideswipe was about to rebuke his brother when a tiny whimper brought both to lower their optics on the small ruffled head that had begun to move under their face plates.

Lucile rubbed her eyes with weak and tired movement, body aching from the position held too long.

Sleep made her reactions slow and uncoordinated, but when the cold of the night coming through the spaces between the metal fingers against which she rested her cheeks blew on her face, she became aware of many things.

The darkness that surrounded her. The height at which she was. The feeling of being watched by someone.

It was exactly that feeling to convince her to look up, finding two pairs of starry sky-blue eyes to observe her carefully.

- She is tinier than I thought – was the first comment that Sideswipe let out in a whisper, approaching his helm to the little figure who stared at him in turn with huge dark eyes – hi, little one.

Blinking, Lucile tightened the grip around Sunstreaker's metal finger, surprised at how gentle his voice was.

Actually, she had imagined it just like that, soft and playful like a gentle breath on her cheeks.

Sideswipe smiled briefly to put her at ease, mindful of how humans were easily frightened by their height and their physical structure, but he was caught off guard by the hand she suddenly held out without fear, almost with wonder.

He stretched his out in reaction, allowing her to touch him freely, and when Lucile closed in her little palm his metal fingernail she raised on Sunstreaker a delighted look before lowering her eyes again and smile warmly at the surprised Autobot.

- You're pretty – she chirped, amused by the way Sunstreaker's brother reacted to the sound of her voice.

Smile at him come naturally.

How could it be otherwise?

He was the same of Sunstreaker. Tall and with that showy color she knew to be an expression of their vibrant personality. Even their eyes were similar. Strong and fierce, but with a hidden kindness that graced their face.

Touch him seemed so odd now, yet incredibly nice, just a she had imagined.

Actually , she had imagined that moment so many times to still struggle to distinguish reality from fantasy, but the metal finger she was holding was true, as it was the hand that held her.

It was all true, and in her, the happiness to know the two of them finally together and the sadness of having to let them go fought each other to gain the upper hand.

But Lucile managed to find a middle way, opting for the melancholy to which she was accustomed.

In the meantime, with a shake of his broad shoulders Sideswipe seemed to come to his sense, all under the watchful scrutiny of Sunstreaker, not at all surprised by the slowness of his brother, just as it was not at all surprised to hear shortly after his unnatural silence his excited voice thought the common-link.

_- I like her!_

_- I can feel it, brother._

_- She called me pretty._

_- I know it, Sideswipe. I was there too._

_- So what are we waiting for? Take her and let's get out of here._

As if it was that simple. Sunstreaker sighed internally, keeping an eye on Lucile who had began to rummage in her backpack.

_- Scans her._

_- What for?_

_- Do as I say, brother._

Grumbling, Sideswipe did what his brother had ordered him to do, his sensors which analyzed the little one.

_As if he did not know how they are made. _

Unlike his brother, he had spent _a lot of_ cycles with humans. There was not much to know about them besides the fact that they were small and noisy, and although she seemed sweet like the voice he had heard through the link with his brother, despite the distance, what could be different about her? Why his brother-

Lucile gasped, frightened by the sudden withdrawal of the finger to which she was clinging, but Sunstreaker was fast enough to strengthen the grip to prevent her to losing balance and falling.

- _What the pit are you doing? Are you glitching?_ - Sunstreaker hissed in anger, fingers that closed protectively around the dazed figure of Lucile, anchored to his servo with both her hands, eyes wide for the fright fixed on the drawings that came out of her backpack for the sudden movement.

- What's that?

She did not answer the questions, sure that Sideswipe was not addressing her, but when she felt his big fingers push aside her arms to exert a little pressure on her chest with his fingertip something told her that the question _was _addressed to her.

- What's that?

The touch was not intended to hurt, but Lucile stiffened as if he had just hit her, a tension that Sideswipe did not take long to notice.

And in fact, he found himself troubled by the pain surfaced on her eyes, pulling back his servos while looking on the face of his brother the answer to her reaction, but Sunstreaker seemed tense as much or more than her.

Meanwhile, Lucile continued to remain silent, one of her hands slipped at chest height, fingers full of the fabric she instinctively grabbed seeking support.

_What's that?_

The question continued to reverberate in her mind, again and again, and the more she listened to it, the more the hidden meaning showed in her glossy eyes.

_He_ knew about her heart.

How or when she could not know, but the thought was enough to make her tremble.

The flash of pain darted in Sunstreaker's eyes was difficult for her to grasp with all that air to cover her face, but Sideswipe had _felt _the painful wince in their spark, a pull that shook every circuit of their processors.

A short but intense pain, that's what it was, something the icy and murderous Sunstreaker could not feel, actually, he could not feel anything according to the other. Nor pain. Nor sorrow. Yet, what dirtied his optics was unquestionably grief, because for those he loved it was easy to hurt him, so much easier than they thought.

The cold touch under her chin made her shiver, but Lucile let him bring her face upward to meet his sad gaze. Sunstreaker narrowed his optics when he caught the glint of tears in her eyes, closing his fingers around her tiny form for the piercing need to keep her with him, safe and sound.

Meanwhile, behind them Sideswipe stooped to pick up one of the tiny pieces of paper fallen to the ground, optics caught by those he knew to be drawings of him and his brother.

There were many, but in each of those he and Sunstreaker had a smile, something that from the beginning of the war they had lost.

Actually, they had lost much, and would continue to lose as long as there would be the need to fight, but even if it was in their nature, fight, they began to be tired of all that war, blood, and death.

All that pain.

There _had_ to be something else, and somehow, his brother had found a loophole to everything, the hope of something different, better.

A new beginning.

They could have it both. She could give it to them, as well as they could give it to her,_ all_ they had to do was give each other a second chance, they deserved it, they need it to start again.

Quietly, he joined his brother, optics fixed on the little one to whom he stretched the piece of paper without a word.

Lucile, who had followed his movements in silence, grabbed her own drawing with trembling fingers, curious about the meaning of that gesture.

With a nail, she began to trace the outline of the three figures portrayed hand in hand, a smile to appear on her face streaked with tears.

- I did it for you, as a keepsake – she informed him, raising her eyes on them – it's yours – and she stretched out her hand once again, waiting for one of them to take it back, to allow each of them to say goodbye, but the immobility of both confused her, almost as they were not listening to her, but Lucile knew it was time for them and for her to go. Time was up.

- Take it.

How many times had Sunsteaker seen that hand held out to him?

A hand that was never empty, never just a hand, because in that tiny palm there was always something for . Kindness. Love. There always had been something, even in that moment she was giving something, a memory, a reminder of what could have been another life, something that would have ended like all things were intended to do.

Because a day, maybe in a couple of orn, Lucile would be gone, so that little hand and all that he had found inside.

And what would be left of all that?

A drawing. A drawing, and empty space on his spark.

Too little. Far too little.

When Sunstreaker's giant hand closed gently around hers Lucile did not know how to interpret it, and unable to withdraw or to look away from him she just stood still, but even if the sudden whine of the gears had the power to frighten her, the grip around her prevented Lucile to get away.

Her heart began to beat faster, an effort that took her breath away while her eyes were closed for the flash of light and she curled up in a protective position, scared. _So scared_.

- Lucile.

She narrowed her eyes when she recognized his voice above the whistle in her ear, a call to which for the first time she did not answer, lost in the darkness behind the eyelids that she still refused to open.

- Lucile, open your eyes.

- I'm scared – she managed to whisper, still disoriented – I'm scared.

- There is nothing to be afraid of, little one.

Even Sideswipe's voice was gentle, almost warm-hearted, but there was something warm near her face, and she was afraid to find out what it was.

- Open your eyes Lucile. Did you not trust me?

Her eyelids trembled a little at that world. Trust. Did she trust him? Did she trust Sunstreaker?

Light was the first thing she recognized. A tiny and bright globe of light that filled her eyes when she decided to listen to him.

It was then that the grip around her hand loosened, allowing her to back off a little and lean back on the metal fingers that as a railing prevented her from falling.

It took a little of time for her eyes to focus the odd light, but when she was able to define its border Lucile gasped in surprise, shocked.

- That's -

- Yes – Sunstreaker confirmed, pushing with his fingertips the globe of light a little closer to her – it's a shred of my, ours spark.

Instinctively she held out a hand, attracted by the warmth that it emanated, pausing a breath from it when the knowledge of what she was about to touch stopped her fingers from reaching it.

- It's yours.

Sunstreaker frowned a little for the shocked expression of Lucile, her eyes wide and alight with disbelief.

- Mine?

- Yours.

- I don't understand – she murmured, staring now at the shred with pure terror – I don't-

- Do you not want it? – Sunstreaker asked her, his voice grave and almost wounded.

What was he asking her exactly?

Her eyes went back for a moment on his face, looking for an answer that Lucile could not find, but when she found none there either she looked back at the shard with stiffness.

- It must be kept safe.

- Indeed, it must be, little one, but this is not the point. What my brother and I are giving to you is a bond.

A second chance.

Sideswipe welcomed the confusion on her face with a playful smile, one of his fingers back to tap gently her little chest.

- How you feel about us, little one?

- I love you – was the clear reply she gave him, without a shadow of hesitation, so much so that he found himself to stare.

- But you don't know me – Sideswipe pointed out – how could you love me too?

- Because you two have the same soul, and that is what I love about Sunstrekaer, thus, about you too.

The silence that followed her explanation was filled with words she could not hear, but when Sunstreaker returned to push the shred to her Lucile let it slip in her fingers.

A heat wave flowed her face and body, a bubble of sweet warmth which soon turned into a searing sensation from which she drew back with a shudder.

- Take it – Sunstreaker insisted, pushing it again, but Lucile stepped back a little, pressing against the cool finger.

- It's too hot – she complained, her hand resting at chest height – and it hurts.

- It can fix your heart.

- Nothing can fix my heart.

It was true.

Nothing can fix her heart, not even the travel in which her grandmother hoped to find some new treatment.

She was going to die soon or later, and no one could do anything about it_. No one._

Lucile had accepted it for some time now, and the last thing she wanted was to be fooled again.

It had been difficult enough know to have no hope, and accept it, thus she did not need any more pain.

No. No more pain.

- Maybe it can, maybe it can't, little one. But it's a chance.

- It can kill me?

- You'll not die – was the fierce claim of Sunstreaker, a ferocity driven by the desperation Lucile had seen too many times in her own eyes and on Lucrecia's face.

- You are a human. We are Cybertronian. This alone is a valid reason for which things could go wrong.

So it can kill her.

- Nothing will go wrong. In the best case you will free yourself by that fleshing shell, and you will live with us as creators.

Creators. Parents.

She would have had parents. They _wanted_ to be her parents.

It was enough the thought to bring tears to her eyes.

It would have been nice to have parents, heal and be free, _really nice_, but Lucile was too accustomed to take into account the variables to afford to daydream too much.

Her grandma. The possibility of dying. There were so much to consider, but what about her?

What about what _she _wanted?

How much time had she passed to pretend to be an adult?

How long had she ceased to behave like a little girl, like a _child_?

Lucile had spent so much time worrying about how other might feel toward her condition to have forgotten what it meant to think about how_ she_ feel.

_What about her?_

The shred throw a glow on her face when Lucile grabbed it with trembling fingers, her whole body annoyed for the unnatural influx of heat that reddened her cheeks.

It burned. It burned so much to tear her a cry of pain, but she did not loosen the grip, instead she strengthened it.

Her heart seemed to burst, her arms and legs collapsed, and her eyes could not longer stand the light, so much so that she closed them with a little moan.

At one point she even thought she could almost reach out and touch the uneasiness of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, their concern for her.

It was a strange feeling to be able to sense them in that way, but somehow it made her feel linked to both.

Was that the bond they were talking about?

Was that her second chance?

Lucile didn't know it, as she didn't know if she would make it, if she would die, if something would change, if she, could change. No one could know.

It was just as Sideswipe had said.

A chance. Nothing more than that. A leap in the dark that she was not afraid to make, because it was not the time to be afraid, to waver.

It was time to believe and hope, and finally, to give herself a chance.

* * *

**As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next, there will a leap forward in time, so get ready!**

**I'd love to know what you think about the chapters, or the story in general. Once again, thanks for reading!**


End file.
